en espana

well. we made it. trishy. jake. jeff. sarah. and i...we are here in galicia. the brothers are here too. bro gilliermo the romanian brother who proudly announced that he has two bats in alcohol in his bedroom. bro alberto is also here. he also happens to be sean connarys twin. there are 13 other priests and brothers who live here and two volunteers who help the pilgrims.

the monestary is here too. gigantic. beautiful. a stately building in the middle of town. it was built in the 6th century and has suffered numerous fires and the torments of war and financial turmoil. we learned yesterday that it has been splashed by the blood of martyrs who were seeking refuge from the mores.

before i came to spain i was convenced that that my life would be changed here. just knowing how my heart responds to beauty and seeing this place i know it is true. i have the intentions of my friends and family on my tounge and in my heart is gratitude.

Uncle Bud Visits Denver

A mystery about my life may has been solved tonight. Or at least I might be a little closer to knowing why my Catholic faith is such a big part of my life.

My parents took my family to Mass fairly regularly when I was a child. We didn't talk much about it, but we did make it a priority. No one else in my extended family went to church every Sunday, so I know my parents' presence at Mass was a sacrifice. However, when I was 10 and asked if I could start receiving Communion we discovered I had never been baptized. After months of RCIA classes I became Catholic. I was 11 years old with one practicing Catholic family member (my dad.) Time went on and I slowly lost interest in Catholicism and became intrigued by the faith of my Protestant friends. I planned to leave the Church after graduating high school, but after my only Catholic friend passed away and I encountered the Lord truly present in the Church, I decided to stay. God confirmed my decision by crossing my path with FOCUS missionaries and giving me the friends I needed to build up my understanding and love of the Lord.

It is clear that that chain of events brought me back to my Catholic roots in a beautiful way but, the mystery still remained. Why was I Catholic in the first place? My housemate Katherine asked me recently if there was a strong figure in my life who had been praying or fasting for me and I really couldn't think of anyone. I knew my great Grandma Genevieve was Catholic and feisty to boot, so it wouldn't have surprised me if she pleaded with God to grant me a love of Him and His Church, but I didn't have enough information to say that for sure. No one else came to mind so I began to wonder if a neighbor or the parents of my future spouse had prayed for me or something.

There were no leads until this very night.

Today around noon my dad called to let me know that my great uncle Bud was in town tonight only and that he would be having dinner at my cousin Faunia's at 6. I was invited, of course, and knew that I should do everything in my power to be there. My, I am certainly glad I made it.

For four hours I sat across the table from a 79 year old man who was the spitting image of my grandma June. He had the same large nose with a rounded tip. The same crinkly, smiley eyes. Even the same whispey, white hair. He told numerous stories about life, our family, and his faith. He talked of politics, music, and books. His disposition was remarkable. I knew he was tired, but he maintained a cool composure, even as the night wore on. He never missed an opportunity to compliment anyone and he took genuine interest in everyone who was speaking.

During a small lull in conversation someone started speaking of my dad's father, Larry. Larry and his brother Ron, married two Haney sisters- June and Nona. The Haneys were an anti Catholic family so when June and Nona married Larry and Ron and became Catholic, you can imagine the uproar. For a time June and Nona's mother wouldn't speak to them and they were completely disowned from their Protestant-Irish family. I believed that Bud was still in the same boat, but I was wrong.

The quality about Bud that permeates the whole of him is his faith in God. You can tell that he is hard working, knowledgeable, and raised a good family, but all of those things take a back seat when compared to his faith. He plays the 12 string, sings, and leads retreats at his parish. He writes songs for our Lord and loves to invite other people to Him. I believe he knows what it means to be Catholic.

I had no idea that Uncle Bud was a faithful Catholic, but what he said about my Great Grandpa Chuck baffled me even further. Great Grandpa Chuck, my Great Grandma Genevieve's husband, hadn't come up in conversation until the very end of the night. We had discussed every other family member, living and dead, but somehow Grandpa Chuck didn't make the list. I mistakenly said his name when trying to talk about Grandpa Larry and the first words out of Uncle Bud's mouth were, "Now. your Grandpa Chuck, he was a real Catholic." He went on to say that while Great Grandpa Chuck was not a man who spoke often of his faith, he lived it in every last detail. When he was convicted by something or Scripture revealed something to him he acted. I felt as though the final twist had been made an the rubix cube now aligned.

My Grandpa Chuck and I only had a few months together on this planet. I was on my way in and he was on his way out. My mom only knew him for a year or two, but she tells stories of him, an old cowboy, sitting in his hospital bed and weeping during his final days. She says they weren't tears of sadness, rather tears of joy. Not everyone has such sweet memories of Grandpa, though. Chuck Loser grew up on a ranch and loved to ride horses. As a young family man, necessity drove him into the construction business and he was hard working and driven the remainder of his life. He had a hot temper and jealous spirit, but his last years revealed the kindness that he had possessed all along. The only documentation of Grandpa Chuck and I meeting are a couple of pictures of me and him with our oxygen tubes on. I was a delicate newborn and he was weathered and tattered by time and the elements.

I imagine during those few exchanges between my Great Grandpa and me, my truly Catholic, Great Grandpa, I was given the opportunity to touch his heart. There he was at the end of his life, encountering the beginning of mine. While he held me, perhaps he was also wrapping me in Mary's mantle and asking her to take care of me.

Whoever it is who prayed for me I am grateful to God for continuing to bless me through the mystical body of Christ. In His goodness he has chosen members of my own family to draw me into His.

A toast... to today

It's going to be a great day! I just know it.

When the toast popped up it actually launched out of the toaster this morning. For some reason I just love that. It's like a tiny little joke between me and my breakfast. So anyway, that happened. And I think today's going to be good.

A Random Smattering

Today I didn't read much. In fact, other than a few emails, I think I read less than 3 pages of text.I think that's a good thing to do sometimes. Not that I don't love to read, but there is such thing as information overload and I think I was on the brink of it. So this is not much of a synthesis of what I learned, instead it's rambling about some things that have happened in my life today and lately.

I took the day off from work to recover from the Saint Paul FOCUS conference (which was AWESOME!) The benefits of taking the day off included, but were not limited to:
1. Getting 10 hours of sleep
2. Going to the movies with Sarah and all the retired folks
3. Cleaning my room and the bathroom

Number two from above is referring to The King's Speech. HIGHLY recommended. In fact, new favorite movie. The portrayal of friendship was authentic and moving- something that you don't often find in a modern day movie. The character development was extremely well done. You instantly identify with the quirkiness and eccentricities of Lionel as well as the fear and woundedness of the Duke. Their qualities, history, and different perspectives come together marvelously to highlight the value of friendship and the hope that exists even in the face of tremendous setbacks. See it. I promise you won't be disappointed.

One last thing- here is a picture from my flight out to St. Paul. It was so much fun. I sat with 8 other FOCUS/CLM folks and we had a rockin good time on the plane. Praise the Lord for wonderful people.

Why remember?

Today's copyblogger post titled Defy Convention (or be forgotten) speaks about Frida Kahlo, a Mexican folk painter who is known for her raw self portraits, complete with unibrow and faint mustache. I read the post along with a myriad of other emails as I started my day this morning. But Pamela Wilson, the article's author, hit close enough to home that I am still thinking of her as I get ready for bed this evening. Wilson asserts that we can all be memorable if we give people something to remember us by. And, she tells us, this doesn't just happen by accident, "She [Frida Kahlo] went against the conventions of the day and left her brows and upper lip au naturel in order to stand out. Those were, of course, just a few elements of the overall style that made her unforgettable. Everything about her — from her appearance to her paintings to her personal life — worked together to create a powerful message." She goes on to say that by speaking truth, taking a stand, having a distinguished style, and not going over the top for shock value's sake you can be memorable in your online marketing. I believe she's onto something, and it doesn't stop online. If we want to make a difference, to be truly excellent, and to accomplish our goals- displaying that desire in one single aspect of our life is not enough, it must be expressed in every area. May we be bold in our convictions and allow them to purvey our whole selves.

Book Club Gems

one by one we showed up for book club at Starbucks tonight. each of us coming from our respective jobs, our respective relationships, our respective experiences to discuss a book which I, admittedly, did not read.

the conversation started as usual. grumblings from the day, news from the week, the nuances which color every gathering of this sort; how was work? what is so-and-so doing tonight? oh! did you get a haircut? i was thinking of you when...

the book discussion also started on par with the other twenty-odd times we've met. a thumbs up or down for the writing style, the author, the cover, and all those things that probably depend more on one's mood than the actual book.

then things got more interesting. this week the person who selected the book also brought discussion questions. after quoting a passage about any man being able to sprinkle rose pedals on the bed, but a real man being able to hold your hair while you're getting sick, she popped the question: name something romantic which you wouldn't normally identify as such?

hm. interesting. isn't THAT the question? what is something you don't necessarily receive as love which actually is love? ladies and gentlemen... well, just ladies in this case... things just got interesting!! we left our shallow chatter for a brief moment and dipped our toes into the depths of the human experience.

"no matter how late he stayed up playing video games my husband getting up (without a single complaint) at 5 a.m.to give our baby her bottle." , "when his choice is my favorite restaurant." about her father, "no matter who else was in the room or what was going on he would come up to me and ask how was your day, mija?" "he took the time to map out a whole trip for me just so I could avoid renting a car" What do these gestures by the men in our lives have in common?

well, first they are in response to reality. i mean, there are some legitimate needs at play in these scenarios: hunger, money, sleep. they aren't just walking around, willy nilly, trying to find something to do. they are perceiving needs and meeting them.

second, they are sincere. it is the way in which these gestures are executed that makes them loving. he is getting out of bed, choosing her preferences over his, overcoming the weight of the day, and weaving his way through details just to make her life a little easier.

third, they are actually what we need. as women we think our "need-o-meter" can tell us every solution to every problem. i mean, she would be much happier if she... if people just looked at life like...all that guy really needs is... but what we really need is to serve and allow ourselves to be served. as thrilling as rose pedals in bed might be, there is nothing like coming face to face with a man who will chose your sleep over his, or restaurant, self-esteem, or pocket book.

and then someone got a text message, and we started talking about being dairy and gluten free and about new houses and lunch routines. before we knew it we were back to the kiddie pool, splashing around and having a grand ol' time. but I won't forget the plunge. indeed, i know now deeper waters exist and are waiting to be forged.

Turtle Neck Swimming Suit Fiasco

In sixth grade, just after my parents got divorced, I was in desperate need of a new swimming suit. My dad, smack in the middle of a mid-life crisis, bought a boat with his brother and we suddenly found ourselves on the lake every-other weekend.

So there we were wandering through the racks of Wal*Mart. Me and the recent bachelor looking for a swimming suit for the awkward twelve year old body of mine. Even if it didn't look so awkward it felt awkward and that was enough to keep me embarrassed at almost every moment of the day. You can imagine the shade of my face as my dad and I searched for a nylon article of clothing that might as well be underwear.

Among racing suits and bikinis of every size and color- well, every size but mine as such things go- was a swimming suit like I had never seen before and have never seen since. My dad found it and I believe me, it was a sight to behold- the turtle neck swimming suit. An unidentifiable paisley-ish pattern with pinks and yellows which didn't quite go together, it was a mock turtle neck with thick straps that covered the whole shoulder. The top extended to the bottoms and the bottoms were shorts that fit no one, I'm fairly certain of it.

Once the tankini was found my dad was convinced that I must be its owner. Despite much pleading and whining I was suddenly wearing it in all its horrendousness. But at $9 how could we pass it down? my dad wondered. Due to some low lever miracle, pass it down we did. I finally convinced him that there were other fish in the sea and if he ever wanted to see me out at the lake again that poor excuse for a swimming suit could not come home with us.

I just thought you should know.

This week's highlights

10. Wal-Mart diversity: I found myself Wal*Mart Saturday to buy jello (see #7) for Easter and the check out lady was a lovely black woman who called me babe roughly 12 times during the minute and a half we spent together. Including Pick up your card off the floor, babe (when I dropped my credit card and didn't pick it up immediately) Being in Stapleton made me realize I live in a very white world and it makes me sad. Mostly because at my grocery store dads don't ask their fussy baby girls "why you gotta be like that, girl?" which I had the pleasure of hearing there.

9. Lindsey & Jen's original Southwest Salad: Salt and pepper seasoned chicken, chopped and chilled; chopped jalapenos, corn, black beans, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, avocado, fresh squeezed lime, a dash of olive oil and red-wine vinegar. Amazing! Give it a whirl!

8. Tenebrae: A Triduum tradition with the gradual extinguishing of candles with each recitation of psalms, Lamentations, and readings from the Divine office. When the last candle remains it is walked slowly behind the alter while everyone stomps their feet and beats their pew to signify the earthquake after Christ died upon the cross. The chapel echos with mourning and tension while the lone flame escapes from site and then returns again to placed back on the stand. The lone, flickering light is returned, the clamor ceases, and all leave in silence. It is a beautiful experience of the drama of the resurrection which the Denver seminarians hosted.

7. Jello eggs: For years my sister and I have been using the jello egg molds, we purchased circa 1998, to no avail. Every time the eggs fall apart or won't come out of the mold or don't keep their form. But this year (sadly, without photo documentation) it worked! Alleluia! An Easter miracle!! Tip: run the mold under hot water before removing the jello eggs

6. Random encounters: Walking to Aveda this weekend I intersected Bri, Nathan, and Ben on their way home from REI. (I love living so close to the city! And to them!!) They had just randomly seen Denny, Rachel, Anastasia, and Denny's sister and were pretty jazzed about it. I continued on my stroll and as I was crossing 17th saw some familiar faces- there were Denny, Rachel, and the gang! I asked if they were waiting for me, assuming Bri and Nathan told them my whereabouts. Not so. Another random encounter! Then Denny pushed me in an attempt to keep me from being late to my appointment.... It was great to see them.

5. Healing Mass: Some friends and I went to a healing Mass Tuesday and, in addition to being a beautiful encounter with God's healing, heard some great tips about prayer. I will share them: When we pray we should read scripture as little children, about 4 years old. When we are 4 we know our own limitations and we are dependent upon our parents to wipe us up when we puke or go to the bathroom in the wrong place. As a four year old we will also be in awe when the great stories of the Gospels unfold. We should ask Mary to pick us up and kiss the lies out of our heads. And we should

4. I'm little: From many people this week I've been reminded that I am just like I was when I was young and I have a littleness about me that I need to recognize and honor. Even though it is sort of an odd thing to hear outright it was freeing to be reminded of who I truly am; a simple little girl who delights in the mystery of this life and who just wants to love and be loved... nothing really more than that.

3. History lesson: Ashley's bf, Bob graciously shared stories from history with me, Diane and Ashley on Friday. We were full of questions and he was full of answers. I realized how much I love being told stories. And I realized how skewed the US view of history is.

2. New family member!! John!!! Welcome to the Catholic Church, baby! It's great to have you!

1. Easter!!!! Christ, is risen from the dead, trampling over death by death -Matt Maher. Easter has always been my favorite holiday. From my childhood I loved the minimal hype and complexity of it all. The excitement of springtime, the presence of my family members, the candy, and sand-pit volley ball at Aunt Nona and Uncle Ron's. I mean I've pretty much been destined to love this day. As I've grown, the reality of Easter has grown more vibrant and I see how it is an occasion for transformation. I mean, it really does change everything. If death has been trampled by our loving God we are FREE!! And the depth of our freedom depends on how we embrace it. May we fully accept the graces and joys our Lord desires to give us this Eastertide. 50 days of celebration, baby!

Taking it off the top

To fast from the clutter of everyday life- This is my Lenten sacrifice. The first-fruits of my time, my heart, my attention... these shall be offered to God. Oh! To live simply and to become more simple in my ways; it is only in simplicity that I can see the face of Christ and hear His voice. Only there can I begin to see who I really am. He gives the charge take up the cross and follow me. Surely He knows how foolish and stumbling I am... on my own I cling more tightly to the clutter and complexity of my life, not the cross.

His response to my need is different. He comforts me without the stuff, without the clutter and pretense. His ways are not my ways. His thoughts are not my thoughts. And yet, the charge is given ...be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect...What could this mean?? How can I, a cluttery maze-like mess of a person, be perfect? be simple? be Heavenly-Father-perfect?


It is by God's hand alone. Nothing I can do will straiten this crooked path. It is my adoption as a daughter- only that- which removes the debris from this heart of mine... makes strait this crooked path and empties out these junk-filled cabinets. He invites me to participate, to give a wholehearted try, to offer those first-fruits. Lent is truly a gift, for it is my fruit that He will transform into His fruit- that is the God I serve. This Lent my prayer is that God will simplify my life and my heart. I am a Daughter and I long to be perfect like my Father.

*These pictures are from Saverinthecity.com and Cleveland.com respectively

Your faith has made you well

"Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years and though she spent all she had on physicians no one could cure her..." -Luke 8:43-48

I see that woman. Desolate. Without reason to hope. Constantly trying to keep her own blood from leaving her body. In a culture where blood deems you unclean hers built a fortress around her.


Her loneliness must have been immense. Her desire to be accepted in the sight of her neighbors, even her own husband almost tangible. She spent everything she had. What did she give up in order to find healing? Each hour of labor, each wage, every ounce of hope, and prayer offered- all to be cured. Peering over the wall into the life that she could not have- community, acceptance, joy, health... She could not attain it on her own.

This Man, Jesus, came into town. How had she first heard of Him? What story was told? Did she hear about the others healing? Or notice the crowd? Was it only a day that passed before she had the courage to draw close to Him? An hour? A month? A year even? And when she arrive did the thought of making Him unclean stir fear in her? Or was His presence a charge into action? Perhaps His words were so full of love that she knew what He could do. He; He could make up for what she lacked.

That which The Savior chose to heal humanity made the Jew's food and people useless and untouchable. He too would experience His own blood leaving him. How Jesus would have looked upon this woman after He realized it was her who had faith in Him and called upon His saving power.

She touched His cloak with great faith and was made clean. His blood for hers. His family for hers. His comfort for hers. He took her hemorrhages upon Himself as he does for all who approach Him.

Sowing and Reaping

This was intended to post over a month ago. Sorry, brother:

In the whirlwind of phone calls, spreadsheets, and office birthday parties I found myself on a tiny retreat at work this week. A miniature reflection was being led by my friend and spiritual brother. His words have resounded in my heart and in just a few day's time have already born great meditation.
this image is from www.accessgambia.com

What do we do when our Lord has placed us in a field with a particular crop and it is bearing no fruit? Did we read the map wrong - up-side-down perhaps? This might not be the plot? Perhaps we grabbed the wrong satchel of seeds. These seeds seem too tiny, too dry, too green, even fragile and easily bruised- sure signs they couldn't possibly bear the vital and hearty crop we've been promised. Now what? Abandon ship, so to speak? Venture to the next lot and help someone else with his seedlings?

With all that in mind I came across this scripture from John chapter 4 (verses 30-37):

They went out of the town and came to him.

Meanwhile, the disciples urged him, "Rabbi, eat."

But he said to them, "I have food to eat of which you do not know."

So the disciples said to one another, "Could someone have brought him something to eat?"

Jesus said to them, "My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work. Do you not say, 'In four months the harvest will be here'? I tell you, look up and see the fields ripe for the harvest.

The reaper is already receiving his payment and gathering crops for eternal life, so that the sower and reaper can rejoice together. For here the saying is verified that 'One sows and another reaps.'

It is important to look at the context in which Jesus is telling His friends, "one sows and another reaps"...He is revealing His great communion with God, His Father and the very source of his sustenance. With God Christ needs nothing else- not even a bite to eat. And it is within that framework that Christ tells his disciples "The reaper is already receiving his payment and gathering crops for eternal life so that the sower and reaper can rejoice together." The sower matters not without the reaper.